Some Days With The Pile Driving Crew

Decades ago, I was farmed out to a pile driving subcontractor, while the main crew went to pour a bridge a few hundred miles away. We were driving piling for an abutment cap on an overpass. Since I'd never driven pile, I was the F.N.G. and I had a lot to learn.

The piling was 16 inch square, prestressed concrete pile about 60 feet long. To those that don't know what that is, the piling has strands of cable that run the length of the pile. The cables are stressed to a certain amount of tension, before the concrete is poured. After the concrete is cured, the cables are cut at the end of the pile and the holes are filled with epoxy. The cables add strength, and hold the piling together.

The crew was well seasoned, so my tasks were the most menial. If it required someone to wallow in the mud and move something, I was first in line to accomplish this task. After all, other than doing such things, I was damn near useless.

As the week progressed, I learned how the rig was set up, the parts of the hammer and how they would set the batter for the batter piling. All of it was hard dirty work and the constant beating while driving required ear protection. To add insult to injury, the hammer - which was a diesel hammer - "slobbered" oil and diesel. Every day, when I returned home, I was speckled with drops that constantly fell from the running hammer.

The one day I really remember started brutally hot. The humidity was high and the forecast was for heavy evening thunderstorms. The hammer was cantankerous that morning, which meant I had to climb the leads and spray starting fluid in the intake. It took a few tries, but the hammer finally fired and I was rewarded with an extra amount of "slobber" as I climbed down the leads. The noise was deafening, even with ear plugs. Since the piling was just resting in the hole we drilled, there wasn't much bearing and the piling was sinking quickly. All I could think of was hurrying down and avoiding getting my hands caught in the pinch points as the hammer dropped.

The piling eventually reached the point where every blow only buried it a fraction of an inch further. The inspector, who was logging the pile, nodded his head and the foreman pulled the compression release on the hammer. We had one done and many more to drive.

It was around 3:30 when I noticed the huge thunderstorm to the south. It was hard to say which direction it was headed, but I had a good idea it was headed our way.

We were setting the leads on another piling, when it became obvious we'd be hit by the storm. The foreman, who didn't want to go through the entire process again, continued setting the leads into position. The thunderstorm arrived before we could finish.

As we tried to secure the rig, lightning started hitting close and often. We secured what we could in the high wind, but were soon soaked by the torrential rain that arrived faster than anticipated. We all cringed when a bolt would strike close. We scattered to our vehicles to wait it out; we still had tools to pick up after the storm passed.

I sat in my truck and dripped while I watched the winds whip the rain. As I watched, the tool shed scooted a few feet. The next gust started it skidding and it soon flipped on its side. As my truck rocked, I began to wonder if a tornado was near.

After about fifteen minutes, a few of the crew left their vehicles and started gathering tools in the still steady rain. Not wanting to be odd man out, I left my truck and started helping. After all, I was already soaked, so the rain didn't really matter any longer.

We finally finished, which was a relief. The packed, clay header bank was now slick as ice and the heavy mud coating my work boots made walking difficult. I was already tired and this wasn't helping. It was time to go home.

As I left, I drove by the tool house, which was turned where the door was pinned. Deciding it didn't need to be locked, I headed home. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough and it promised to have heat even more brutal, with the added burden of slogging in the mud.

I stopped an bought an ice cold beer on the way home. It was one of the best I ever had.

Some Things You Don't Forget

I was working in a small town in Central Texas. It wasn't a large project, and it wasn't terribly far away, so we worked Monday through Friday and came home on the weekends.

The weather caught my attention. Thunderstorms of unbelievable size, and fury, were a daily occurrence in the distance. I'd never seen such huge, billowing clouds that stretched into the stratosphere. My only reaction was awe. Even though I'd been exposed to thunderstorm my entire life, I'd never seen anything that compared to what I was observing.

One night, at about 1:00 am, I awoke, when the power went out. The deep darkness was broken by constant lightning. Not a second passed without a flash and the continuous, bright flashes would have allowed reading newspaper.

The motel manager walked through the parking lot and spoke to those that were standing outside. A tornado warning was issued and the storm was forecast to continue to our location.

I watched until the tremendous downdraft hit. I stepped back into my room and waited.

As I waited, I wondered about the tornado. Where was it? Was it wrapped by the heavy downpour, filled with small hail? Was this it? Would my life end when the motel was ripped apart?

My answer was soon to arrive: the tornado lifted back into the clouds and the storm eventually passed without any damage.

The following morning was clear, and the only indication of the storm were a few puddles in the parking lot. News reports revealed only minor damage to outbuildings in the surrounding countryside. Nobody was injured and nobody died.

I've seen tornadoes, although they've always been the small storms, or waterspouts, found along the coast. They cause damage, but the winds are far from the horrendous 200 mph plus winds in an E4, or E5 tornado.  I can't imagine such an event and don't want to ever have it part of my memories.

So, I've wandered all around the gut wrenching feeling of knowing parents are mourning the injury and death of the their children in Oklahoma. I can only offer prayers at this point, and they seem woefully insubstantial to the horrors they endured.

Lazy Sunday

Yesterday - in fact all the preceding week - was busy. I had lots to do, and pushed too hard. Yesterday brought it to fruition, when I hit a stick on my rider and knocked the drive belt off the pulley. Placing it back into position led to some strange contortions, which led to an angry response from my lower back.

So, today I kicked back and did nothing except a little grocery shopping and the long cooking of a roast. It was good, and tomorrow brings another start to what I'm forecasting as a busy week.

One other thing: Thanks to some links, and a lot of new readers, I'm getting substantially more traffic than I've ever had before. It's humbling and I'm thankful. For those that visit, I really do appreciate your time.

Kept Up To Date

From an interview with Dan Pfeiffer, an Obama Aide, with Chris Wallace:

"...Asked about whether the president entered the Situation Room, Pfeiffer says, "I don't remember what room the president was in on that night, and that's a largely irrelevant fact."

Maybe in his mind, but when it comes to a coordinated attack against representative of the United States, it's not irrelevant; it's a demand the President is completely apprised and taking the necessary actions.

He continued:

"... the president was in the white house that day, kept up to date by his national security team, spoke to the joint chiefs of staff earlier, secretary of state, and as events unfolded he was kept up to date..."

Oh really? He was kept up to date? He was in the White House? So, if the man in charge was on top of things, is it safe to assume the responsibility of the outcome is completely that of the President?

I don't know about you, but if this is true, the only conclusion is the President either wasn't paying attention, or the lives of 4 U.S. citizens ended with absolutely no effort to save them. Either is unconscionable and illustrates how little concern this administration has for the safety of U.S. citizens. If they'll let those that are our ambassadors to foreign lands be butchered by terrorists, it's safe to assume they have less concern for the ordinary citizen. 

Obama can't skate on this one. Either his aide is lying or he just implicated the President in one of the worst atrocities ever performed by the United States government.  

When "Scandal" Isn't Enough

The word scandal doesn't describe the outrage of the criminal acts being discovered by investigations. In our current society, "scandal" has been so misused, there isn't enough outrage associated with the description.

From the murders in Benghazi, to the deliberate acts of government agencies to criminally oppress - or spy - on citizens, a more fitting description needs to be applied. Atrocity is a better description. From this point on, I'll describe the acts as atrocities.